Antebellum
by Birdy21
Summary: The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London. I glanced at the houses behind us and frowned. There was no number twelve, only eleven and thirteen. [Harry/OC] [OOTP]


**Disclaimer: Property of J.K. Rowling. Merely tapping into her world for creative outlet.**

**A/N: So I should be studying for my exams, instead I'm writing this. It's an experiment, when it comes to Harry Potter I'm rather into the canon world and don't like to change things. But I'm really excited about this so I hope you guys will like it as well. The first chapter will be a bit confusing because we're jumping right into the story, as it progresses it'll become clearer and hopefully you guys will stick around.**

**1. GRIMMAULD**

Ian's hand was wrapped around my arm tightly, too tight even. I didn't mention it to him though, the effects of side apparition were already there, he was barely able to stand and I felt like throwing up. I could feel the bile rise at the back of my throat, not to mention the blood covering our clothes wasn't quite helpful either. I could feel my feet drag behind me as Ian's breathing started to sound even more forced.

"Ian." I tugged at my brother's arm. "We're almost there, right?" My heart was pounding its way through my chest and as we rounded the corner, somewhere in a Muggle neighbourhood, I could see that it was completely deserted.

"Ian." I tried to coax some kind of reaction out of him, but the stain on his shirt was only getting bigger as blood kept seeping out of his wounds. "Are you sure we're at the right spot?" My voice trembled at the end.

I wasn't quite sure where Ian had taken us, but I knew it was the only safe place that he knew. For now. The houses were grim, even on this hot summer day, their appearance came across as neglected. Shattered windows were common as the pavement was littered with shards of glass. This couldn't be the place Ian meant to be safe, could it? At some point Ian's grip on me loosened, I could feel it in the way his hand slipped down my wrist until he finally let go. The panic I had tried to suppress for so long was now resurfacing. I could not possibly be panicking now. The back of my head was throbbing and I could feel the burning of my tears.

"Ian, no please. Tell me where we have to go." Ian grunted and his dark hair was matted with sweat as I lowered him to the pavement. He was in awful shape and the fact it was my fault didn't help the situation at all. "I'm so sorry." I sobbed, tears were spilling over as I could see the trouble Ian had with breathing. "This is not supposed to happen." The panic was so prominent that I could hear my heart's troubled beating, the rush of blood through my veins and the throbbing at the back of my head all at the same time.

I sat myself down next to him and I knew that if someone were to look out of the window they would be confronted with a conflict of interest. The sun was setting and the street was bathing in the remaining sunlight. It didn't make the houses look any prettier, nor did it change the strange feeling of being deserted. It just prolonged Ian's suffering. He still hadn't said a word and I found myself wishing that Harry was here. Or Hermione, even Ron. They would've known what to do.

"Louisa." It was almost inaudible, but I picked up on it and I snapped my head to Ian.

"Yeah." I urged as I pushed myself to my knees. "What is it?" His hands were trying to reach his pocket but he was trembling too much and I reached out myself. There was a tiny piece of parchment in his pocket. I frowned. Parchment? Was that supposed to help?

I pushed aside all the confusion and glanced at the writing. _The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London. _I glanced at the houses behind us and frowned. There was no number twelve, only eleven and thirteen. The brief moment of comfort it provided had left my body as soon as it had come. Ian was wrong. There is no Grimmauld Place twelve.

"Ian, there is no number twelve." But before I could even finish my sentence I saw that Ian wasn't conscious anymore. "No, no, no, no." I pleaded. "Wake up, come on. You can't leave me here." Tears brimmed over and I wrapped my arms around his torso.

There is no Grimmauld Place number twelve. So where was I supposed to go? Out of nowhere the houses number eleven and thirteen started to shift and a battered door appeared. It read number twelve. It was followed by grimy walls and windows, all having the same neglected and battered look about them. I scrunched up the piece of parchment and put it in my pocket as I started towards Ian.

"Come on, we're there." I muttered, talking to no one. I knew Ian couldn't hear me, but somehow it helped to talk out loud. Ian was heavier than he looked and I had more trouble dragging him towards the door than thought. The steps weren't helping either.

I pressed the doorbell a few times and glanced at the dirty grey door, there was a handle, in the shape of a serpent on it and I frowned. Was this really where we were supposed to go? Fatigue was finally taking hold an I pressed the doorbell once again when suddenly the door swung open and I tumbled inside.

"Louisa?" Mrs. Weasley's high pitched voice was full of shock and I couldn't even imagine how this would look like. "Arthur!"

I could hear screaming at the back, I wasn't quite sure what was said but the sheer volume was overpowering. Hands grabbed me and pulled me on my feet and I saw that it was Professor Lupin. Questions were thrown at me but I was too tired to react, they barely registered in my head. They could've said anything and I would've agreed. That was how I felt, like a bloody puppet. Lupin's hands were holding me on my feet and I found myself being guided through the dark hall, there was a faint smell of mould clinging at the walls. I wondered I was the only one that could smell it.

Somewhere in the all the chaos I was placed upon a chair. Several people were crouching in front of me, pushing aside strands of dirty hair, wiping away tears. Professor Lupin came in and out of view, it was as if he kept running from one spot to the other.

"What happened, dear? Can you tell us what happened?" I thought it was Mr. Weasley, but I wasn't quite sure.

"She's not responding." Someone else reacted and I let out a breath.

"Ian." I murmured. "How's Ian? Where is he?" I tried to push myself out of the chair but I was held in place.

"Ian's fine." Lupin answered. "He's being taken care of." I blinked at him a few times and I could see the worry marring his face. For someone who wasn't even that old he surely looked much older.

"Where am I?" I blurted out.

"All in good time, dear." Mr. Weasley replied bleakly as he put his hand on my shoulder. I found myself glancing at the room I was in. It was some kind of parlour, though it didn't give the same warm and comfortable impression I was used to. The gloom and dark room made the fatigue and headache heavier and the tip of my fingers tingled slightly.

I really was tired.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

"Here you go." Mrs. Weasley put a cup of tea in front of me and I glanced at it absentmindedly before reaching out to it. The warmth was comforting, it almost made me forget that I was hurt and bruised all over.

"Thank you." I answered tonelessly. "Where's Ian?" I asked immediately. "Is he alright?"

Mrs. Weasley smiled at me, though her smile came across as weak and I could see the tension in her eyes. She gave me a brief nod and patted my cheek softly. "He's as good as it can get. He's sleeping now."

"Can I see him?" I was anxious and I started from my chair but Mrs. Weasley intercepted me and pushed me back.

"Let him rest. He's tired and he's been through a lot." I sank bank into the chair and pushed away the tea. It wasn't as pleasant as before. Mrs. Weasley's red hair had streaks of grey in it, compared to last summer she seemed to have aged a great deal. Or so it seemed.

The kitchen was dark, like everything else in this house, but at least it didn't have that mouldy scent lingering around like the other rooms. "Where is everyone else?" I asked tentatively. Mrs. Weasley waved her wand and I could see the dishes behind her start to wash themselves as she placed the kettle back on the stove. I could see her eyes averting me and I wondered why she did that. Was she hiding something from me?

"Mrs. Weasley?" I called out. "Where is Aaron?" My other brother. The eldest of the family. Shouldn't he be here? With me? He must've been so worried. "Is he here?"

Mrs. Weasley sighed deeply and made her way towards me, she pulled out a chair and gave me a brief look of concern. "Aaron is in St. Mungo's." I blinked. "There was an accident at the Ministry, nothing major. Last I heard he was alright, but Celia is taking care of him. She's with him as we speak." I felt a bile rising and I pushed away the chair and moved out of the kitchen. I didn't slam the door, it didn't make me feel better.

I stumbled through the hall and pushed open a random door, only to be confronted by a horde of people. My breath halted and my vision was blurred because of the tears.

"Louisa!" Mrs. Weasley's voice rang behind me and as I entered the room I found myself being embraced by someone with brown bushy hair. I wrapped my arms around Hermione Granger and found myself crying.

From the corner of my eye I could see Harry. His green eyes were filled with shock and something else I couldn't quite decipher. I wasn't quite sure whether I wanted to know what that meant. Right now, everything was too overwhelming.

All I really wanted to do was sleep.

**A/N: I hope you liked it. Please review, they're honestly the reason to actually continue writing. Not to mention I thoroughly enjoy them and they give me an incentive to update sooner!**


End file.
